Mera Pyra
by OracleMine
Summary: "My Love" You planned on a calm visit to the lovely Phantomhive mansion, but a love sick Indian prince may change a few plans Soma x Reader


Ciel Phantomhive, head of the Phantomhive household, was pouring over numerous withered documents sprawled across his desk. The feather of his quill was pressed lazily to his lips, one cerulean eye traveling the thickly printed lines.

A shrill shriek broke his thoughts, his door bursting open. It slammed shut just as quickly, the sound of panting becoming evident. A flash of ruffled skirts crossed the room, diving behind his desk.

Leaning back in his cushioned chair, Ciel was met with a pair of (e/c) eyes.

"(Name)? What the bloody hell are you...?"

"Shush!" You interrupted, pressing a finger to his mouth.

Ciel was becoming quite perturbed. First, his confidante had ruined his concentration, and then she had the audacity to quiet him, like a toddler. The only real reason he hadn't slapped the sense back into her was fear. There was fear in (Name)'s eyes and that was worth some weight.

The connections of the Phantomhive family were a brave bunch, a strong tree with even fiercer roots that ensnared the entirety of Europe. Only the truly disturbing could have reduced her to such a state.

"He's coming..." You whispered again, quickly withdrawing your hand.

Footsteps drew closer to the closed door, (Name) ducked back behind the desk.

"Oh goddess~" An accented voice called, swinging the door open.

Ciel pressed twin fingers to his temples, letting out a sigh too heavy for a twelve year old. Soma. Of course. The ignorant fool had been drooling over (Name) since day one.

You had come calling at his London home, laden with a new tea set you'd picked up in Madrid. Prince Soma, excited to see his best-friend's closest adviser, had hugged you on sight, cooing about how much fun he had planned for the weekend. Pulling away, he was startled to see the shape of your body, the rich color of your eyes, and how the cold English wind had ruddied your cheeks. He threw himself at your feet, praising the goddesses of beauty and love for honoring him with their disciple.

The Indian man was a little more than innocent. He had grown up on bedtime stories of dashing princes, declaring their love a heartbeat after slaying vicious beasts, or fantastical tales where eyes locking across crowded ballrooms were enough for marriage proposals.

The only confusing thing was why you were saying no. He could make you a princess, treat you like a queen, and lavish you in all the fineries the world could provide. Every time he rushed you for a kiss, you ducked, dodged, or tore off screaming.

You were a bit more old-fashioned in the fact you actually wanted to know the last name of the person you were marrying. To be perfectly honest, you found him to be a bit overbearing. He was very cute, handsome even, and could be sweet when calmed down, but you preferred a man that didn't cram your mail box with love letters (coupled with horrid self portraits).

"Ciel, my Dōsta." He cried out, a look of panic graced his pointed features. "I seemed to have lost my lover..." [1]

"She is not your lover." Ciel sighed, returning to his work. "Lady (Name) has given her formal reply to all seventeen of your marriage proposals, I believe the matter is rather resolved."

Soma grumbled something to the tune of 'Sixteen proposals...' before sliding a box onto the ravenettes desk.

"If you see her, give her this. Agni helped me pick it out in one of your strange shops."

English culture was still an oddity to him. Open air shops were commonplace in India, but here, they were labeled "Market places" and considered low class. He and his manservant had ventured into an "Indian" shop this past Saturday, braving cheesy replicas and near racist costumes. It took some digging, but Prince Soma had found the perfect piece just for you, his Queen.

"I'll be sure to." Ciel nodded, shooing him away with a wave of his hand.

Once to coast was clear, you slunk out from your cowardly spot, straightening your dress.

"I would say my thanks but I am still very cross with you. Why didn't you say he'd be staying at the main estate?" You huffed, crossing your arms.

"Honestly, I didn't even know he was here today. I would have warned you, if only to avoid any more distractions. My servants are bad enough." The boy tossed you the gift, eager to clear out his study of guests. "Here, take this. And make an effort to be thankful, please? I can't stand the sight of him crying again, he gets tears all over the floorboards."

Ciel gave a cold nod goodbye as you escaped from the Earl's office.

Tucked away in the library, you undid the sloppy paper and twine that encased the hefty box. It was evident that Soma had tried to wrap it himself, out of foolhardy stubbornness. A thin black box was finally unsheathed, and folded neatly inside was a (f/c) Sari, edged in gold. [2]

You blinked, pulling out sheath after sheath of silk. It was beautiful. You looked to the card, smiling a little. "To my Goddess." You bit your lip, crushing the fabric in your fingers. The boy had an attitude of the old saying, "Give an inch and he will take a mile". Was it all that awful that you wanted to give him that inch?

Soma lounged around the guest bedroom, entertained by Ciel's "magic box". The television was showing the same program as always, but he would take anything to get his mind off love and other equally horrible things. Agni had forewarned him that relationships weren't quite what the Prince assumed they were, though it fell on deaf ears. At the moment, his butler was down in the kitchens with Sebastian, scrubbing the dinnerware.

A gentle knock reverberated off the door, interrupting his quiet time.

"Agni, did you bring me any leftovers?" Soma began to whine, pausing only to choke on his words.

After a cough or two, he was able to gape at the vision in the doorway. The extra lengths of silk pooled at your ankles, a thin layer of embroidered fabric layered over your shoulder. It was a little snug, but an alright fit all around.

"My love," He bowed to you, taking your hand. "Do you like your present? A queen deserves to dress like one."

"I love it." You grinned widely, guiding him up off the ground. "I have a present for you, as well."

Soma began to bounce a bit, clapping his hands. "What is it, what is it?"

You leaned up on his tiptoes, pressing a small kiss to his cheek.

Soma paused, his hand hovering over where your lips had touched. He looked as if the Heaven's themselves had opened and shared their secrets.

"(Name)." He whispered.

Soma knew if he was lighter complected you could easily see a dark flush spreading up his face. The ony kisses he had ever gotten were from the slave girls at his palace that were eager to please him. Your lovliness far surpassed them, as well as the affect you had on the Prince.

"You actually called be by my name." You noticed, quite surprised.

You could feel the tension in the air, and for the first time, the love. It was always petty wants with Soma, he was still that spoiled child deep down inside, and you felt his affections were just to gain a toy he wanted. You. Now, in a moment quiet enough for you to think straight, you could see true adoration in his eyes.

In a mutual, unspoken decision, your lips met in the middle, a hot spark connecting the two young people. Soma cradled you in his arms, hands exploring the intricate folds and layers of the sari. You stopped him before his teenage hormones cohered him to rash decisions.

"May I call you my wife, now?" He mumbled hopefully, lifting his eyebrows.

You laughed, shaking your head. "No. What if we start off with, let's say, courting, hm?"

Soma grabbed you again, pulling you in close to his chest. It was rather romantic, until he opened his mouth again.

"Fine, fine. Courting, then marriage. And after you will bear our beautiful children!"

Agni applied an ice pack to Soma's black eye as he slumped childishly over his kitchen stool.

"How was I supposed to know suggesting pregnancy was inappropriate?" He groaned, leaning into the cool cloth.

Off to the side, Sebastian continued to wash the dinner plates, discreetly rolling his eyes.


End file.
